


Headache

by FuchsiaMae



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, because she deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 01:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: Caroline has a headache. Her boss has a solution. PWP





	Headache

"Gentlemen, I wanna talk today about commitment. Now I've heard people say I should be committed, and I am -- to science! To the future! To the betterment of mankind through the kind of innovation that only we at Aperture Science are capable of! Today, folks, I'm gonna show you beyond a shadow of a damn doubt that there is no better place to invest your hard-earned cash. 'Cause when you invest with Aperture, you're not just investing in fire-proof shower curtains, no sir! You're investing in _tomorrow_." He flashed a classic Cave Johnson smile. "Isn't that right, Caroline?"

No answer. The smile faltered.

" _Isn't that right_ , Caroline?"

"Mm?" He glanced over to see his assistant rubbing distractedly at her temples. She didn't look up from the file in front of her.

"You missed your cue, kid."

"Sorry, sir." She barely lifted her head. "What's my line?"

"Just -- never mind, forget it." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, but she was already back in the papers, as if he hadn't said a thing. "Where'd I leave off? Ah, right." Peterson and his goons would be here any minute, and with all that cash on the line, Cave needed one humdinger of an intro speech. He leaned back in his chair to compose. "We've made a lot of breakthroughs here over the years. Done a lot of good science. I look at all that and y'know what I say? _That's not good enough!_ Let's do more! Let's do bigger! Let's change the world!" Above the smile, his brain raced. "Needs something else. Whaddaya think, Caroline?"

No answer again.

"Caroline."

"Mm?"

"I'm gonna replace all the HR reps with mantis men. How's that sound?"

She didn't look up at all this time. "Whatever you say, sir."

He took a deep breath, all set to tell her off -- but then he noticed the tension that knotted her brows, pulling her face into a pained scowl. She ground her knuckles between her eyes as she squinted down at the file in front of her. Instead of snapping, he asked, "You okay?"

"Fine."

No she wasn't. Her hand dropped from her face, but a moment later returned to rubbing her temples.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Headache."

"Get something for it."

"No aspirin."

"Just go to Medical."

Her eyes squeezed shut under her frown. "We have the Peterson meeting."

"It'll take five minutes!"

" _Mr. Johnson_ ," she cut him off, in a tone more curt than anyone else would dare. "It's. Fine." Then she sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk, turned away from him, and buried her head in her notes. Almost at once she began to rub absently at the base of her skull.

"Hey."

She didn't look up as he rose from the desk. He came up behind her, and a larger hand slid under her hair beside her own. It was an intimate gesture, wholly inappropriate for the workplace, and from anyone else she would've recoiled -- now, wordlessly, she let her head fall forward so he could take over. Strong fingers kneaded from the nape of her neck down to her shoulders. As the pain ebbed, she relaxed into his touch.

"There we go. Good girl." He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "Better?"

"A little." Her tone was less sharp now. "Thank you, sir."

His hands lingered, warm and heavy, on her shoulders. His thumbs rubbed slow circles along her spine. She arched into him with a little sigh, and as he slid up under her chin, she tipped her head back, letting him cradle the weight of her skull in his hands. Her eyes met his, dark and inviting; her barely-parted lips made his own tingle with imagined kisses. He swallowed hard. It would be a crime to let such a stunning woman go unsatisfied.

"Y'know," he began, the false-casual words thick with suggestion, "I got something else that would help. If you want it."

"Oh?" Her brow arched knowingly. "What's that?"

He moved past her to the office door. She heard a decisive thud as he pulled it shut, and a click as he locked it. "Get in the chair."

The corner of her mouth quirked in a not-quite-reluctant smile. "It's fine, sir -- "

But the look he gave her said he would hear no argument. "Caroline. Get in the chair."

They didn't have time for this. She needed her notes ready, and Peterson could be there any minute, and -- she felt the train of thought gaining speed and pulled the brakes before it could carry her away. Honestly, her head still hurt enough to be distracting. She couldn't bring a distraction into a meeting as important as this. Only practical, then, to take her boss up on his very generous offer. She met the smolder of his gaze with cool, tempered professionalism. "Yes sir, Mr. Johnson."

He followed with his eyes as she crossed around the desk. The chair behind it, an executive model in rich oxblood leather, felt indulgent just to look at. She sank into it like a warm bath. Caroline was the only other person on the planet allowed to touch Cave Johnson's chair -- and it suited her, he thought, watching the ease with which she settled in his place. She sat tall enough that he hardly had to lean in when he kissed her.

The first kiss was light and lingering, just the barest brush of lips as they savored the closeness. He went in for a second, but she stopped him -- "Lipstick." He glared, but redirected his attention to her throat. She purred and tilted her head back for the nibbling kisses he trailed along her neck. Just above her collarbone, he kissed a bit harder -- "No marks." He grumbled but withdrew. His mouth was needed elsewhere, anyway. It curved again in that gleaming smile as he sank to his knees.

"You really don't have to do this," she said demurely, as if turning down a decadent slice of cake. The eager way he loosened his tie said she was in no danger of losing the offer.

Both hands snaked up her skirt. "I _wanna_."

She let out a yelp of laughter as he grabbed her ass and pulled her forward, tilting her hips to receive him. His head ducked under her hemline, and she felt him go straight for the prize, nuzzling and kissing and tugging with his teeth at the thin fabric of her panties. She'd felt fairly tepid before sitting down, but his warm breath on her skin kindled a languid heat down below. Peterson could wait for a few minutes, at least -- and with his considerable skill, a few minutes was all she'd need.

He wasted no time. Unclipping her garters with a speed born of practice, he pulled her panties down and dove headfirst between her thighs. He kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue -- she gasped softly -- and spread her open with a first long lick, ending with his mouth on her clit. He sucked and lapped and made her squirm. Another stroke, a deep kiss, and then he came up for air, savoring her musky scent like a glass of fine scotch. No brew ever bottled could compare to his girl.

The tickle of his tongue elicited a shaky sigh as he rimmed the inside of her slit, and she shifted to give him a better angle. It always shocked her how deep he could reach. She spread her legs wider, and her hips pushed up for more, grinding on his face in pure reflex. Her body knew what it wanted. She focused on the sensation and tried hard not to think. Thinking would distract her, and she couldn't finish while distracted, and the longer this took, the less time she'd have to check those notes -- which she caught herself trying to read from where she'd left them on the desk. _Dammit. Focus_. If they weren't fast enough...

She glanced at her wristwatch. 2:04. Plenty of time. She pulled her eyes from the clock, but they lingered instead on the office door.

Cave, meanwhile, immersed himself in the task at hand. He wouldn't care if a brass band marched in -- pin her thighs over his ears and he wouldn't even notice. Nothing mattered but the woman in front of him. He flicked his tongue against her clit and earned a shudder as reward. Letting the world outside her legs melt away, he raced headlong into a vigorous rhythm, his tongue revving fast and hard on her clit as mounting excitement drove him on.

She flinched at this. Her body wasn't quite ready yet for the full brunt of Cave Johnson's enthusiasm. "Easy," she murmured, and he slowed. She wanted very much to lie back and enjoy, but her fingers itched with work to be done. Those notes needed at least another once-over before the meeting, and she really ought to perk some coffee, and surely by now they were running out of time.

She checked her watch again. 2:07 -- and a hand closed around it, covering the little gold face. She glanced down to see him peeking over the edge of her skirt. He paused for a moment, giving her nerves a sudden reprieve. After being worked hard for several minutes now, she shivered at the light touch of his breath -- warm and gentle, like his hand on her wrist, like his eyes as he lifted his head.

"Hey," he murmured, in a soft, earnest voice only she ever heard. "Relax." For a moment, the look on his face was pure love. Then his eyes lit again with the spark of desire, and that smug old smirk tugged at his lips. "Boss says it's okay."

She could stop right here, if she wanted. Say a polite _no, thank you_ , pull up her panties, and get back to the work he paid her for. She could do that. Instead, she returned every inch of his smile. "Yes sir."

Immediately he set back to work. His head plunged into her skirt, so quickly she laughed in surprise -- the sound became a gasp, then a groan, as he kissed her. Her sweet pink pussy, flushed bright with desire, called to him with its parted lips; he buried his face in her and grinned as he felt her shudder again. _Good girl_.

Now that she could yield to his attentions, she did so with relief. Her eyes slipped closed, and she sank slowly deeper into the chair, melting on the supple leather as her muscles shed the day's stress. Sex at the office was no foreign thing -- they fooled around more than they probably should, but no one was about to lecture Cave Johnson on workplace propriety. Every time, though, that nagging anxiety tried its hardest to keep her skirt in place. As if she had any modesty left, after all the turns she'd taken at the foot of this chair. As if anyone believed their "working late" stayed purely above the belt. The office would gossip no matter what, so she might as well enjoy _all_ the perks of her position -- and her boss could be oh-so-generous with a hard-earned bonus...

With a wiggle of her hips, she settled her pelvis firmly against his face. He licked her wide open, sweeping the broad flat of his tongue over her slit, drinking in the sharp sweet-salt taste of her. She opened with every stroke. She had a theory, based on much observation, that oral exercise strengthens the mouth for all activities, not just speech -- a man who gave lots of speeches, then, would have a very strong, very agile tongue. Her boss speechified with the best of them, and his tongue could be a medalist at the Oral Olympics. She felt no qualms about pushing the gifted athlete to his limit.

Her arousal, hot and wet on his mouth, drove him wild with lust. With each stroke he felt her open more and more. He could take her right now if he wanted -- so wet, so eager, so very ready. He could ram into her balls-deep as easy as anything. The urge shot like lightning through his core and into his cock. He could rip down his fly, grab her by the ankles, and fuck her into the chair till she screamed. If he really laid into her, they'd hear it from the lower labs to the parking lot. Let everyone know that when Cave Johnson fucked his girl, he meant business. He moaned into her pussy and delved as deep as he could go.

He felt every movement rippling through her, every tiny twitch and spasm. Just warning tremors now -- but the big one was coming, and he'd make sure it came _hard_. As ever, Cave Johnson's zeal was a formidable thing; his jaw began to ache from thrusting forward, so he redoubled his efforts and thrust even harder. She groaned and matched him, rocking her hips, quivering now with strain. Oh, she was so close -- he grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her onto his face.

Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, knees hooked over his shoulders, she bucked and thrust against his mouth. Her head lolled, but in her core, the muscles that melted just moments ago began to tighten, tense and trembling as she neared the edge. Scraps of disjointed thought flitted through her mind -- the lab briefings from the morning, the letters to send this afternoon -- she still hadn't put the coffee on for Peterson -- _Peterson!_

Her eyes snapped open and glanced towards her watch again, too briefly to read it, but enough to send a flash of anxiety through her that almost ruined her. He locked the door, didn't he? Yes, yes he did. She thought he did. Now, in her sex-fogged haze, she wasn't sure. What if he forgot? What if -- what would he do if someone caught them now?

Nothing, of course. He wouldn't give a damn if the whole board of directors walked in on them. He wouldn't spare them a single thought -- wouldn't stop, wouldn't falter, wouldn't even look up. He'd keep right on going, Cave Johnson with his face in her cunt, devouring her like his life depended on it. Now _there_ was a picture -- Cave Johnson on his knees, and his lowly assistant lounging like a queen on his throne. She'd give them a lazy smile and a little wave and say, " _Mr. Johnson is occupied right now, you'll have to wait for your appointment..._ " And then she'd laugh, a smug sultry movie-star chuckle, turning into a breathless moan -- like the one that escaped her now -- as she spread herself, shamelessly greedy, for more.

And they'd watch openmouthed as he pleasured her, better than any of them had ever done, probably -- she remembered Peterson's sour-faced wife and then she was there too, standing behind her stodgy husband, burning with envy -- burning because she'd never in her life get to feel Cave Johnson's mouth on her body, because -- his tongue revved like a power drill and she _groaned_ \-- because Cave Goddamn Johnson fucked her like a _champion_ \-- her breath came in ragged bursts as she rode him -- let them see her gloating pride as she _came on his face --_

Her breath caught. He knew that sound -- with a low moan of anticipation, he buried his face as deep as he could go. She thrust forward, back arched, quivering -- _right there, right there_ , as she felt herself poised on the brink -- and with a whispered, " _Coming_ ," she did.

No screaming orgasm this time, but she wasn't in the mood for one. She got exactly what she needed -- a burst of _relief_ , pure chemical bliss shot deep in her core, spreading outward in gentle waves from her head to her curling toes. She trembled as the tingling hormones pulsed through her veins. Her body bucked in reflex -- once, twice, and the third time became a shuddering full-body spasm as she drew out the climax as long as she could. Then, slowly, it released her and withdrew, leaving her breathless but very alive.

 _Thank you_ , she thought to science, as the wash of hormones ebbed. Then she opened her eyes. "Thank you, sir."

Back in the world, she found herself suspended, hanging with her shoulders on the chair and her hips on her boss's face. His eyes gleamed at her as he squeezed her ass, still cupped in his hands, and gave her clit a playful lick. She squeaked like he'd caught her with a joy buzzer. The pert little nub was so sensitive now that the lightest touch would send a shock through every nerve -- so of course he did it again, and laughed as her whole body jerked. Finally lifting his head, she saw her own wetness glisten on his grin. "That's my girl."

Still panting lightly, she unhooked her legs and pushed herself upright in the chair, but decided against standing until she remembered how. She lay back a moment to catch her breath.

"How's your head?" he asked from the floor.

Right, the headache. She'd forgotten. "Fine."

"Good!" He clapped her on the thigh. "Peterson's a bear, I need you at the top of your game."

He got to his feet and reached down to adjust his obvious arousal, the outline of his cock clearly visible as it strained against his pants. A tongue of desire licked up from the still-hot embers in her core. She checked her watch one more time -- 2:18, and there might be time to pencil in a quick hard fuck...

From the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing. He took her hand and pulled her up to standing, into his arms, pinning her so that she felt his erection pressed against her belly. "Anything else I can do for you?" he purred in her ear. Normally that was her line, and it meant _I'm yours_.

She was about to say " _Yes sir_ ," but the intercom in the outer office cut her off with a loud buzz. What she said instead was "Dammit," and as he whined, she pried herself away. "Cave Johnson's office -- " He couldn't understand the static-garbled speaker from in here, but he heard her respond, "Oh, wonderful. Mr. Johnson will be there in a minute. Thank you." Then she poked her head back in the door. "Peterson's early."

"Sonofabitch."

Reluctant but always professional, Caroline snapped back into action. Cave tried to intercept her, leaning in for a kiss on the neck, but she whisked right past him, eyes only for the Peterson file on his desk. He glared enviously at the notes as she gathered them to her chest. Did she have to be so goddamn efficient all the time? Useful, sure, but a man likes his work appreciated. He was about to say something only half-joking when she asked, too casually, "So how can I pay you back?" Her gaze stayed on her papers, but the lingering heat in her voice was unmistakable, and at the corners of her mouth he caught an echo of his grin.

"I'll think of something." He was already thinking of a few things, but no way could he bring this erection into the conference room. A long elevator ride would help him cool down. He took a deep breath and tried hard to think of anything but Caroline on her knees.

Now she was pointedly not making eye contact, trying not to smile. Professional cool was hard to maintain through a blush. Doing her damnedest to ignore his penetrating gaze, she brushed by him out the door. "Come on, we're late."

He was about to follow when he caught sight of her panties, abandoned on the floor. He grinned. How long would it take her to notice? He stooped to pick them up, and took a moment to press them to his lips, inhaling her lingering scent again.

From the hallway she called, "Let's go, sir! We have science to sell!"

He slipped them into the pocket of his jacket. "Yes ma'am."


End file.
